Covered With a Perfect Shell
by Shannon A. Bernstein
Summary: Roderich Edelstein isn't your typical high school boy, spending most of his days absorbed in his music. When Gilbert Beilschmidt, the attractive new boy, arrives at school, Roderich doesn't know quite what to make of him. But Roderich will soon discover just what is hidden behind a perfect shell - and maybe even start to fall for him.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, and welcome to my second long PruAus fic! Just because it's a high school AU doesn't mean there won't be drama!**

**This fic is rated M for some language, future smut, and for some adult/potentially triggering themes. I don't want to get into specifics, because that would give away the plot. But I'm **_**NOT**_** talking self harm or anything like that. **

**Oh, also, the title of the fic was taken from lyrics of a Dashboard Confessional song called "The Places You've Come to Fear The Most." I don't own the song, or Hetalia.**

**Without further ado, I apologize that the first chapter is a bit short, but enjoy!**

* * *

Clutching his books to his chest, head down, and teeth gritted, Roderich Edelstein threaded his way through the impenetrable throng of students that lined the hallway. They stood in clusters beside lockers, walked together three abreast or more, and trudged at glacial paces with their heads bent over their phones as they typed out text messages. The only thought that crossed his mind was: _God, I hate high school._ Roderich grumbled as he forced himself through a clump of friends on his way to the orchestra room. As he did, the folder stuffed with sheet music that sat at the top of his pile of textbooks slid out of his arms. He lunged forward and caught it just in time. A lone piece of sheet music slipped from inside the folder and fluttered to the floor. Roderich bent to retrieve it and spent a moment crouched on the floor, staring at the expanse of black that stretched across the page. It was _Mars_ from Gustav Holst's _The Planets_. He could hear the music unfolding in his mind almost as clearly as though he was listening to a recording of the piece.

Remembering that _he_ was now the roadblock in the middle of the hallway, Roderich snatched the papers from the floor, straightened, and coaxed the sheets back into the folder. As he glanced up from the folder for the first time, he was greeted with a sight he wasn't expecting at all.

A boy he didn't recognize sauntered down the hall, hips swaying slightly with his every motion. He wore a bright red hoodie over a fitted black t-shirt with a gray logo on it. A pair of aviator sunglasses dangled from his left hand. He wore a lazy, crooked smile, one corner of his mouth positioned higher than the other. A pair of faded jeans clung to his narrow hips, with a pair of crisp new black Converse Chuck Taylors completing his look. He had short, silvery hair, shockingly pale skin, and a pair of sparkling crimson eyes that were highlighted by the color of his sweatshirt. For a moment, Roderich caught himself staring into those strangely alluring eyes. But as the unfamiliar boy continued to make his way down the hall, Roderich blinked steadily and remembered that this was the kind of person he'd probably hate. Every inch of him screamed that he was the sort of guy who thought the world of himself and no one else. Roderich couldn't stand people like that.

Roderich watched the way girls and even a few guys stared after this boy, eyes hanging on his every movement. It was almost as if he'd become some sort of instant celebrity. The Austrian guessed this boy was probably new in town. Another boy, who was taller, broader, and more muscular than the one with the silvery hair, trailed after him. He wore a plain black t-shirt that hugged his athletic figure. His blonde hair was slicked back and he cast narrowed blue eyes in every direction in a way that seemed vaguely protective. He looked almost like a bodyguard, the type who might follow a famous actor or singer around to make sure fans didn't get too close. Roderich studied the two new boys again and decided that their faces looked…shockingly similar. Perhaps the blonde was the silver-haired boy's older brother?

Someone bumped accidentally into the silver-haired boy. The smile he wore dissipated almost instantly. The taller boy glared dangerously at the offending student until he backed away nervously down the hall. Roderich noticed the two new boys leaning in close and whispering to each other before the one with those glinting crimson eyes turned and started talking to a cute redheaded girl. A big, stupid grin spread across her face at first, which soon faded before she scowled, huffed audibly, and walked away. Roderich wondered what this boy had said to her to make her so angry. He could only guess it had probably been some sort of disgusting sexual innuendo.

But it didn't matter, after all. Roderich had already decided he'd try not to associate with this stranger. From the looks of it, there were plenty others who'd love to make friends with him.

The matter of the new boy slipped with ease from his mind during first-period orchestra. Somehow, the delicate trembling of those violin strings at the touch of his bow could always make Roderich forget just what he was worrying about. Every ounce of his concentration was divided between the black ink that spread out across well-worn, dog-eared sheets of music that had been held and loved by generations of high-school string players, the sounds of the orchestra around him, and the motions of the conductor's hands. Though he had never realized it, Roderich tended to smile softly when he played, his body swaying in time to the music.

During orchestra, he was truly at peace.

Then the bell rang and shattered his forty-five minutes of bliss, bringing reality crashing back down upon him. He grumbled, scooped up his books, and prepared to brave the ocean of students once again, the majority of whom seemed to need to take a class in how to walk down the hall properly. The girl in front of him was walking way too slowly. And the boy to his left – well, he was practically racing down the hall. _You all are such animals_, Roderich thought to himself with a little snort he made no effort to force back. Someone gave him a look. He didn't care.

Roderich took his seat in statistics class, having arrived a bit earlier than most of the other students. He'd never enjoyed math, though by some miracle, he was good at it. _Well, some of the great mathematicians were musicians, too, _he reminded himself. With an expression of mild disinterest, he set his statistics textbook out on the desk in front of him and folded his hands on top of the book, waiting for class to start.

That was when _that_ boy decided to stroll in, walking just the same way he had before, head thrown back, grinning that same stupid grin.

If this year wasn't already looking bleak enough, Roderich was now going to have to spend all of it in class with this idiot. He stopped himself for a moment to throw a glance over his shoulder at the boy. Maybe he was judging the albino too quickly? After all, they had not yet properly met. Maybe he would actually turn out to be pleasant. Roderich just had to give him a chance. And if all else failed, they could try to avoid each other as much as possible. But there was something about him that just _radiated_ obnoxious.

Roderich's attention was pulled away by the sound of the teacher's voice, lazy and monotone as though the class bored him as much as it would his students. "Let's start by taking attendance, shall we?" he droned. He called a name or two, each followed by an unenthusiastic "here."

"Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

The silver-haired boy raised his hand tentatively, cleared his throat a little, and spoke.

Roderich's mouth fell open ever so slightly and just stayed there for a moment in time. He couldn't' believe what he'd just heard. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been _that_.

"Ah, y-yes, th-that's me."

Gilbert's voice was quiet and trembling. As he spoke, he cast crimson eyes downwards, staring at his desk rather than at the teacher. He linked his hands together loosely, one thumb twitching a little. Roderich blinked and dragged his eyes away. But he couldn't resist another sideways glance at Gilbert, as if he expected the other boy to perk up in an instant, as if that had all just been a dream induced by late-night homework and too little sleep. It was only two weeks into the school year, and already the teachers were piling on the homework. Perhaps this was what the older students had been talking about when they complained that junior year was the most difficult.

But Gilbert's expression did not shift. He looked distant, absorbed in his own world. Maybe, Roderich told himself silently, the new boy was just nervous. Clearly, he'd moved to the area within the past two weeks. He probably hadn't made many friends yet. _But what does he have to be nervous about? He's good-looking, _Roderich thought. _Not that I care at all._

"Hello? Roderich Edelstein?"

The teacher's voice calling his name snapped the Austrian boy out of his reverie. "Oh, yes, sorry. Here." Someone behind him suppressed a snicker. They'd probably assumed he'd been lost in thoughts of music, rehearsing pieces in his mind, sometimes even tapping his fingers lightly against the lid of his desk as though he were playing the piano. And most of the time, they would be right. How could Roderich help it if the worlds his piano could transport him to were vastly more magical than the ones he'd find between the pages of a raggedy, ten-year-old statistics textbook?

* * *

"So, Roderich, how's that statistics class?" Elizaveta reached out and poked the worn cover of the textbook that lay out on the table as though she expected it to respond to her touch. "_Fascinating_, I'm sure."

"Eh, it's not so bad," Roderich replied with a mild shrug of his shoulders after taking a bite of his sandwich. "And your calculus class?"

"Sucks," she offered bluntly as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

His purple eyes drifted across the table to settle on Vash, whose expression was blank and unmoving as he stabbed a chicken tender with his fork. And Lilli, his little sister who somehow always managed to get into the same lunch period as him, smiled in between bites of lunch. This was the typical lunch crew this year. Roderich was at least glad to have people to sit with.

Roderich jumped a little when he felt a tap on his arm. "Hey, is that the new boy?" Elizaveta pointed behind her, just over Vash and Lilli's heads.

About four tables away, there was Gilbert, sitting by himself and pushing the last remnants of his lunch around his tray with his fork. His head was dipped downwards so that his crimson eyes were invisible from where they sat. Where was the confidence Roderich had seen when Gilbert had walked down the hallway this morning? Every trace of it had vanished, along with the boy who appeared to be his brother.

"Yes, that's him," Roderich said evenly. "He's in my statistics class."

"He looks lonely," Elizaveta commented.

"He looks cute!" Lilli chimed in as a little dusting of pink crept into her cheeks.

"He looks like trouble," Vash said quickly, shooting his sister a stern glance. The joy in her face evaporated instantly like a drop of water on hot blacktop.

Elizaveta rolled her eyes at the blond boy. "Oh, come _on_, Vash! He _is_ cute. But Roderich, maybe we should invite…"

Before she could finish whatever it was she was saying, the chime of the bell cut her off. Lunch period was over for the four. They all stood and once again gathered up their books. "Where are you headed?" Elizaveta asked Roderich with a smile.

"Oh, English. You?"

The brunette giggled a little. "_Le fran__çais__! Avec l'amour!" _Roderich gave a little nod and turned to head up the stairs, while Elizaveta started to make her way down the adjacent hallway. "Oh, Roderich, don't forget! Ninth period study hall together!"

Roderich gave her a tentative smile. "I won't," he replied. As he grasped the railing and hauled himself up the flight of stairs, a flurry of students pushing past him in every direction, he couldn't help but wonder if she still had a crush on him. She was still one of his best friends, but she should know better by now. Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he wondered if Elizaveta might end up inviting Gilbert to sit with the four of them at lunch tomorrow.

* * *

Roderich's English teacher was much more lively than his statistics teacher. She practically sang out a greeting to the class before beginning with attendance. "Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

Maybe he wouldn't sound so nervous this time –

"H-here."

The slender, pale boy tripped over the short, simple word just as he had in statistics class. But Mrs. Brooks seemed not to notice – or if she did, she'd ignored it. "Gilbert? You must be new here. That's an interesting accent! Where are you from?"

Gilbert visibly tensed up, crimson eyes widening a little as he inhaled deeply. "I-I-I'm from…" There was a moment of aching pause. "I'm – I'm from…G-Germany," he managed to say. "I, ah…B-Berlin."

"I have never been there, but I've heard it's a beautiful city!" Mrs. Brooks said. Gilbert nodded and swallowed hard as he allowed his shoulders to slump forward. It seemed that the teacher was the only one in the room who hadn't silently acknowledged the way the new boy seemed to have trouble forming even the shortest of sentences. All Roderich's classmates had gone totally silent, had ceased their chatter and even the dull, absent _thunk _of pencil erasers against desks. And they all stared at him. They stared the cold, hard, judgmental stares that only high-schoolers seemed capable of.

As Roderich let out a soft sigh, he couldn't help but think he had perhaps misjudged Gilbert Beilschmidt after all.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, and reviews are love! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, first of all, sorry for the delay! I've been a bit stressed out these past few weeks. Also, I should have mentioned there will be some OOC in this fic, especially on Gilbert's part, but I'm sure you already figured that out. You'll find out why later on.**

**But anyway, enjoy Chapter 2!**

* * *

"So. What are you going to do today as soon as you get into school?" Roderich's mother asked firmly, seeming as though she could shoot a stern glance at her son without ever moving her eyes from the road.

"Pick up the college visitation forms," Roderich responded flatly, punctuating his sentence with a little sigh. The mere thought of college made the high school junior nervous. College meant important choices and more responsibilities, and he felt as though he could never be prepared for it all. But did any high-schooler ever feel as prepared as they needed to be for college? The Austrian shrugged mildly and was content to slip back into silence for the rest of the ride to school.

Roderich's mother, apparently, did not have the same idea. "Right. And you had better not forget again, okay? It's important." Roderich nodded stiffly. "You know, before you go down to the orchestra room and start thinking about your music, and get all lost in – what is it? Mercury?"

"_Mars_," Roderich interjected. "It's Mars from Gustav Holst's – "

"Yes, dear. Anyway, go to the office and get that form right away. If you go to the orchestra room first, you'll forget again. I know you will. You can't play music in college if you don't visit any colleges."

"Yes, mom," Roderich said as he crossed his arms over his chest, fighting to keep his tone of voice even and calm. He knew his mother meant well, but he couldn't help but think she didn't realize how important music was to him. Few did understand, and his father was one of those few. He'd been a violinist in Vienna before his mother's job in business prompted the family to move to New York City, and had planned on having Roderich follow in his footsteps. He'd insisted that Roderich start on the piano first, as he had, but he'd never anticipated that his son would fall in love with the ivory keys, devoting more time to them than he did to his violin. From time to time, the boy wondered if his father was disappointed in him.

His mother pulled up to park in front of the school, and Roderich slid out of the car, backpack slung halfway over one shoulder as he shuffled out onto the curb. She gave him a little wave as he shut the car door behind him, and he lifted his hand in response before turning and heading toward the school.

By instinct, Roderich's footsteps led him in the direction of the orchestra room, his safe haven, the place where he spent his study halls practicing rather than having to sit among students who never attempted to talk to him. He halted halfway there, his mother's words echoing in his ears. With an audible sigh, he turned on his heel and backtracked toward the front office. He lingered for a moment outside the office before slowly pushing the door open. A sense of dread settled over him once inside. This was a place where students came to be punished and, therefore, a place he had spent his entire school career avoiding. The one time he had skipped that dumb tech ed class to play the piano back in middle school and had gotten sent to the office, his parents hadn't let him hear the end of it for two weeks. _Never again, _he had promised himself that day.

"Is – isn't there anything y-you can do?"

As Roderich waited patiently for his turn, he heard a familiar voice, and then he recognized the pale shock of hair in front of him. It was Gilbert, that strange German boy from yesterday. His crimson eyes were wide with something that almost resembled panic.

The woman behind the desk sighed and shook her head. "No, Gilbert, I'm sorry," she said. We can't just rearrange your schedule because you would prefer to be in a different lunch period. That wouldn't be fair."

"B-but – but – you don't understand! I – I have to be w-with my…my brother! Please!" Gilbert's voice was practically pleading. He clasped his hands desperately in front of him, looking her in the eye as best he could.

The woman's face softened a shade. She regarded him with sympathy reflected in her disinterested brown eyes. "Oh, all right," she conceded. "I'll see what I can do." She turned and set her fingers on her computer's keyboard, a series of clicking sounds ruffling the still air. "If we could move your English class – no, I can't. You don't have eighth period open. How about we switch your science class with – no, that won't work, either." Roderich could see Gilbert bite down softly onto his lower lip as he waited. "Gilbert, I'm sorry, but I can't make your schedule work with fifth-period lunch. You'll just have to make do with the schedule you have now."

Gilbert's expression dropped. "Oh, ah…okay, then," he mumbled.

"Hey," the woman said softly. "You'll be fine, okay?"

The silvery-haired boy nodded stiffly and walked in slow motion to the door, passing Roderich on the way. He gave the brunette a weak half-smile as he passed, faint recognition glimmering in crimson eyes.

* * *

Another day at the cafeteria, another seven minutes wasted in line for mediocre food. Today Roderich had overslept and, as he was rushing to get ready in the morning, chose showering and neatening his hair over packing himself a lunch. But at least Elizaveta had bought lunch with him. There was a certain camaraderie one could find in complaining about crappy cafeteria food together.

"He's sitting alone again," Lili said in between nibbles of the sandwich she'd brought with her as the small group of friends got settled at the able.

"Who? Oh, the new boy," Elizaveta chimed in. Roderich glanced over his shoulder to find Gilbert bent over a cafeteria lunch with a melancholy, distant look settled over his pale features.

"His name is Gilbert," Roderich commented coolly. "He's in two of my classes."

Elizaveta's expression brightened instantly, and she twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Roderich knew that look, the subtle sideways tilt of her head. She was planning something. "_Someone_ should go talk to him," she mused. "Maybe sit with him. Maybe ask him to sit with us. Someone…" She trailed off for a moment as if deep in thought, "who he might already be a little familiar with? Like, maybe who he has two classes with?" The girl nudged Roderich lightly in the side with her elbow.

Roderich glanced up, startled. "You mean me?"

"Naw, your aunt Gerta," Elizaveta teased. "_Yes_, you!"

"Oh, ah, I don't know, Elizaveta," he replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. He'd never been the best at making new friends, and by the looks of it, this boy could use someone a little more…outgoing than he was.

"C'mon, Roderich, you won't _die _if you just go over there and talk to the guy," she shot back, dragging the word _die _out dramatically. "Besides, no one should have to eat lunch alone."

That was certainly true. Roderich recalled very acutely a time when he had eaten alone for several weeks. As a freshman in high school, he'd been intimidated by the sheer number of students in the school, and by the way they all seemed to group together almost instantly, forming circles of friends as if they'd known each other all their lives. He couldn't just walk up and join one of those groups, could he? What if they just gave him blank stares? What if they threw questioning, judgmental glances at the folder stuffed with sheet music he always carried with him? So instead, the brunette had found a table by himself in a quiet corner of the cafeteria – or, as quiet as a high school cafeteria could be, anyway. There, he had sat and watched the other students, secretly burning with desire to have what they had: friends to laugh with, to lean over homework together, to share complaints about teachers and tests, and most importantly, to understand him.

Then, one day, an energetic girl with long brown hair and sparkling green eyes had bounded up to him and plunked herself down in the seat next to him without so much as asking for permission, and she never left his table for the rest of the school year. That was how Roderich had made his first friend in high school.

Remembering the pang of pain he'd felt at having to sit alone, with other students' eyes upon him, Roderich gave a long sigh, stood, and brushed the wrinkles from his shirt. "Oh, all right," he mumbled as tentative steps carried him in the direction of the table at which Gilbert sat.

The albino jerked his head up in surprise as Roderich approached, peering at him silently. He let his mouth fall slightly open as if he were going to ask something, but he promptly shut it again. "Hello, it's Gilbert, right?" Roderich said in as calm a voice as he could muster. Gilbert nodded wordlessly. "I'm Roderich."

"H-Hi, Roderich," Gilbert replied quietly.

There was a long moment of almost unnerving silence between them. Roderich glanced anxiously over his shoulder at the table he had just left. Elizaveta shot him an encouraging smile and a brief thumbs-up. "Do you mind if I sit here?" the brunette asked hesitantly before chewing on his lower lip a bit.

"No, I – I don't mind."

Roderich let a long sigh of relief slip past his lips. He set his tray down, pulled a plastic chair out from under the table, and settled into it next to Gilbert. For a few moments, not a word passed between them. They each picked silently at the remnants of their respective lunches, barely even looking up at each other. But the brunette couldn't have missed the faint smile playing on Gilbert's lips as he finished his food. Should Roderich attempt to make conversation? That would be better than sitting together and not talking to each other – wouldn't it?

"So, Gilbert, you said you're from Berlin?" Roderich said. Gilbert nodded again. "I'm actually from Austria," he continued. "We moved here from Vienna when I was ten. I've been to Berlin a few times myself. It's a wonderful city."

Gilbert's expression seemed to brighten a little as Roderich spoke those words. "Oh, ah, y-you're…you're Austrian? _S-Sprechen…Sprechen sie Deutsch?_"

"_Ja,_" Roderich replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a few students eyeing the two of them curiously. Gilbert noticed it, too, and stared at his hands for a moment, probably feeling a little judged. And Roderich couldn't blame him. "Oh, they don't like it when we speak a language other than English. They don't understand," the brunette explained. "_Peasants_," he muttered under his breath.

Gilbert giggled a little. Roderich looked up from the last bit of mashed potatoes he was about to wrestle onto his fork from the corner of the tray, and fought to shove down a little smile. Gilbert's laugh, though brief, had been a surprisingly comforting sound. It meant he didn't feel _completely_ uncomfortable around Roderich. Now he was certain he'd misjudged the albino. He seemed to be nothing like the egotistical jerk Roderich had originally pegged him as. Maybe he should learn not to judge others so quickly, especially since he felt awful when others judged _him_ like that.

"I – I – I've…" Gilbert started to say something but halted instantly and took a deep breath, crimson eyes failing to meet Roderich's violet. A look of quiet frustration crossed his face, and his hands balled into loose fists atop the table. Clearly the albino was struggling a little. Roderich felt as though he wanted to help, but he didn't have any idea how to do so. After a split second of pause, the Austrian boy offered a smile that was encouraging, though stiff and hesitant. "I've been to – to Austria a few times," Gilbert said at last, looking a little more relaxed than he had a moment ago.

"You have?" Roderich's voice betrayed none of the sympathy he felt inside. He'd become an expert at keeping his expression still and his voice even from the time he was young, as he'd never wanted any sympathy himself – or at least that was what he thought.

The silver-haired boy nodded, this time with just a little bit more energy. "M-mostly to ski. My – my brother and I…we, ah, we used t-to go there in the winter and…yeah." He trailed off awkwardly, but Roderich tried to ignore it.

"Oh, you…ski?" Roderich echoed. For a moment, he was at a loss for words. He had never been a very active person, preferring to stay indoors and do something calm. What could he tell Gilbert about himself that would actually sound interesting? He combed a hand through his hair in thought.

Much to his relief, Gilbert spoke again, breaking the momentary silence. "Yeah. L-Ludwig's the athlete, though. He – he plays…he plays rugby. He's…"

The bell's tinny ring instantly ground motions in the cafeteria to a halt, as though someone had pushed the "pause" button on a movie. Then, a second later, everyone leapt to their feet as if in a single motion, shuffling toward the doors. Roderich stood with a mild sigh. "There's the bell," he remarked humorlessly, and then inwardly winced at his own words. _Good job, Captain Obvious, _he scolded himself. "Well…see you later."

"Okay, ah…bye, Roderich," Gilbert said as he stood and gathered up his textbooks. The Austrian turned to leave, but the albino's next words made him halt in his tracks. "S-see you in…in statistics class."

The Austrian glanced over his shoulder to find Gilbert smiling sheepishly at Roderich with an armful of books and folders.

"Yes, see you then, Gilbert."

* * *

The unpretentious black car was always difficult to spot in the parking lot. "There it is," Ludwig called, aiming his pointer finger over a few rows of cars to where the familiar vehicle sat parked with its engine still humming. Gilbert followed his younger brother and slid into the backseat next to him.

"So how was your day?" the boys' mother asked as she put the car into reverse and backed it out of its parking space.

"It was all right, I suppose," Ludwig answered first, his tone bland and uninterested. "Nothing special. School is school, you know?"

"All right. Gilbert?"

Gilbert sighed before answering. What was he supposed to say? He couldn't tell his mother that after only two days at the new school, a popular boy or two had already decided to start teasing him for his stutter, could he? He couldn't tell her the way the other students' silent glares seemed to burn into the back of his head every time he opened his mouth, could he? And most of all, he certainly couldn't tell her about _him_ –

"Gilbert?" she repeated gently.

"My – my day was f-fine. Just…just fine," he replied, his words coming out a bit more sullenly than he had intended them to. His mother glanced at him over her shoulder, eyeing him with concern and disbelief reflected in a pair of blue eyes that nearly matched Ludwig's. He had to give her something to deflect the inevitable questions, paired with the sort of motherly pity that would make him feel weak and helpless and childish every time. So he put on his best fake smile, raising both eyebrows slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. Satisfied, his mother turned back around, refocusing her attention on the road. But Ludwig's eyes, aimed sideways at Gilbert, saw right past the forced quality inherent in the upward curve of the older brother's lips._ We'll talk when we get home, _Ludwig mouthed silently.

Once they'd returned to their modest one-story suburban home, Gilbert and Ludwig trudged down the hall and into Gilbert's room, where they let their backpacks drop from their shoulders and onto the floor with a soft _thud. _Gilbert flung himself onto his bed with a heavy sigh and lay there motionless, staring at the ceiling. Ludwig sat down next to him and folded his hands in his lap, remaining silent for a long moment before he cleared his throat to speak. "Gilbert…something's wrong. I know it is. You have to talk to me, okay?"

Gilbert nodded against the sheets, making no move to sit up. "Okay. I…I just…I miss home Lud," he said. "I f-feel like everyone is j-judging me already. I hate it." He paused and listened to the hum of the air conditioner in the background as it combated the lingering early September heat. "I – I want…I want to go b-back to Berlin."

"We can't, Gilbert," Ludwig replied, speaking more softly and gently than he usually did. "And you know why. It's better here. Or at least, it's going to be soon."

"H-how do you know?"

Ludwig gave Gilbert a soft smile, the kind that was reserved for him alone, and maybe the family German shepherd. "Things weren't good back in Berlin, right?" Gilbert nodded in agreement. "That means they have to get better. They have to. It might take some time, but it will happen, I promise you." He reached out and laid a hand gently on the older brother's shoulder.

For a moment, they both fell silent. Gilbert's eyes followed the knobs and cracks in the ceiling, tracing its patterns back and forth until he had started to memorize them. "Okay," he said quietly. "I – I trust you, Lud."

"See? There you go," the younger brother replied, punctuating his sentence with a reserved chuckle. "Just never forget, you can tell me anything, okay?"

Gilbert sat up, the sheets of his unmade bed rustling as he did. "In, ah, in th-the interest of t-telling you anything…" His cheeks pinked slightly as he allowed himself a brief, nervous laugh. Was it really that important? They'd only just met, after all. But that perfect face flickered again in his mind, and along with it, a genuine smile – the kinds of smiles he used to wear back home, before his life and his family's life had started to crumble right before his eyes. "There, ah, there might be a….a b-boy."

"A _boy_?" Ludwig echoed, his voice a rare mixture of disbelief and amusement. "Already? _Seriously_, brother? We just started school yesterday."

"Mmhmm," Gilbert mumbled in response. His entire face felt warm. He hadn't had a crush in a long time – was it too early to even call it a crush? It probably was. He suddenly felt foolish for having brought it up. "I – I can't help it. He…he's the only one who would talk to me."

"_Ah."_ Ludwig smiled knowingly. He elbowed Gilbert gently in the side. "Big brother's got a little crush."

"L-Ludwig!" Gilbert shot back, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly. "I – I do not! It – it – it's not a c-crush!" But the way he tripped over his words was a dead giveaway that he was lying. His stuttering almost always got worse when he was nervous or embarrassed; it was a reaction he couldn't control, and one that just ended up making him more flustered than before.

"Fine." The seriousness resurfaced to Ludwig's face with practiced ease. "Are you at least going to tell me his name?"

His name. Even his name managed to be classy and elegant, just like the way he dressed, the way he spoke, the way he walked, the way he held himself. It was a name he'd turned over and over again in his mind, imagined how it might sound in his mouth if he could speak without stuttering like he used to. Stutters were not fitting for a name such as his. So Gilbert took a deep breath and did his best to steady himself before speaking, with a dreamy sort of fondness:

"His name…his name is Roderich Edelstein."

* * *

**As always, thanks for reading, and reviews are love!**


	3. Chapter 3

**First of all, I really have to apologize for taking such a long time. I never anticipated ever having this happen. It was a combination of writer's block and school-related stress. I would like to be more diligent in updating this fic, and hope to have chapters approximately every 3 weeks from now on out.**

**Second, I'm sorry if this chapter is a little slow or not up to par. I'm still trying to fight said writer's block, and couldn't come up with anything better.**

**Lastly, I might be interested in having a beta reader, even though I think I do a pretty good job proofreading. Anyone interested? **

* * *

He watched without realizing he was watching, almost mesmerized by the other boy's careful motions. Was it wrong to allow his eyes to follow Roderich as he walked down the hall with his purple eyes focused ahead on some point in the distance? But how could Gilbert not watch? Roderich carried himself with the kind of upright poise Gilbert forgot could exist in this day and age. The girls around him dragged feet adorned in either UGGs or flip-flops through the brightly lit hallways, while the boys shuffled from class to class as casually as if they had just stumbled out of bed. Not Roderich. He held his head high, his steps smooth and even. His violet eyes seemed to catch even the artificial rectangular lights that patterned the ceiling.

Automatically, Gilbert became aware of his own posture. His shoulders slumped a little, and his head dipped to avoid meeting other students' gazes. On the first day at the new school, he'd tried to look as confident as possible. Maybe if he looked the part, others could believe him. And if others could believe him, maybe be could believe it himself. But clearly that hadn't worked as he'd planned. Over the summer, he'd hardly spoken to anyone beyond his brother and his mother. The two had grown used to the way he fumbled with his every sentence. At first they had come to accept the way he spoke, and then they had eventually stopped noticing it. But the other students had clearly not done the same.

With a sigh, he refocused his attention on Roderich, who had started to walk alongside a girl with long, wavy light brown hair and a pretty, shapely figure. The smile that had adorned Gilbert's face faded in an instant. The two looked as though they were together from the way Roderich seemed to drop the impersonal veil that surrounded him when he was talking to her, the way her gaze never wavered from his handsome face as he spoke. It made sense, didn't it? They almost looked like they _should_ be together. _I knew I shouldn't even try, _Gilbert silently scolded himself.

The German boy decided he should make his way to class. Even still, he couldn't pry his eyes away from the brunette. His gaze was aimed to the left while his feet took him to the right. He wasn't watching where he was going. All of a sudden, he felt his foot bump into something solid. He was falling through midair before he could even react, and in an instant found his face pressed against cold, dirty tile, his hands and knees stinging slightly from the impact.

When Gilbert finally lifted crimson eyes again to glance around him, he found countless sets of eyes peering right back at him. Two boys who were big and solidly built, as though they were top athletes, turned to each other and sniggered mutedly. Almost everyone else wore confused expressions, brows knitted together as though they weren't sure whether to laugh along with the two boys, or to be concerned for Gilbert.

And then, crimson eyes halted on violet – but not Roderich's violet. This pair of purple eyes shone not with quiet dignity and poise, but with the mischievousness of a child.

"It is Gilbert, am I not mistaken?" Gilbert's ears caught a surprisingly soft and gentle voice, accompanied by a thick Russian accent. Towering over him, with one sneakered foot purposely extended in front of him, was a boy even taller and sturdier than the two athletes. He had pale blonde hair and a scarf wrapped around his neck, even though it was seventy-five degrees outside.

"Y-yes, it – it is." Damn his shaky voice. Damn his inability to speak without stuttering.

A pleased smile crossed the unknown Russian's face. "Ah, Gilbert. The way you speak, it is very cute. Has anyone ever told you that before?"

_Cute? _Both Gilbert's brows furrowed as he pressed his lips into a thin line. He stood shakily and leaned against a nearby locker for support, shooting the other boy his best challenging gaze, though he had no idea how effective it was when his voice made him sound like he was just about as threatening as a fluffy kitten. "It – it is not – it is _not _cute! So just…s-shut up!" Beneath the stuttering, his voice stirred with indignation.

"Oh, but it most certainly is. You don't think…" The Russian boy's words started to fall away. Gilbert watched the small assembly of students disperse, having lost interest in the minor event. He caught Roderich somewhere amidst the throng. Violet eyes turned briefly toward Gilbert, meeting scarlet for only a moment before Roderich looked back at the girl he'd been walking with. He followed her down the hallway until they both turned a corner and vanished from view.

Roderich had seen the whole thing. Roderich had watched Gilbert trip and fall. Surely he must have noticed how weak and powerless he'd seemed. And to Gilbert, that was unacceptable. He never used to be like this. Even as days and weeks had turned into months, he'd never grown accustomed to the feelings that had once been foreign to the more confident version of himself: the nightmares, the emptiness inside, the times when he sat down and started crying for no reason and found himself unable to stop. Before they had even gotten to know each other, Roderich already knew Gilbert's weakness.

The classy Austrian boy would surely never want him now.

* * *

Roderich had been leaving the comfort of his usual lunch table to sit with Gilbert for around a week and a half now. The German boy didn't always talk a lot, not that Roderich minded. Lilli and Elizaveta sometimes got so chatty that he wished for a moment of peace and quiet. He'd grown used to the quiet. His parents were rarely home, so he often had the house all to himself.

Today, he settled down next to Gilbert, just as he usually did. But today, the other boy regarded him with an expression that was almost startled, as though he'd fully expected Roderich not to sit with him.

"Are you all right, Gilbert?" the Austrian questioned mildly, lifting both eyebrows as he tried to read the meaning behind that pale face and those bright crimson eyes.

"Wh-what? Of c-course I am. Why, ah, why wouldn't I be?" As always, Gilbert's voice was unsteady and his sentence broken, but by now, Roderich found himself getting used to it. Even the way he constantly stumbled over his words was far more pleasant to Roderich than the loud, obnoxious voices of the so-called popular kids, which carried all the way down the hall or through the cafeteria.

"I was referring to this morning. You aren't hurt at all, are you?" Roderich recalled craning his neck to see Gilbert pressed flat to the tiled floor with Ivan standing over him, an innocent smile partially obscured by that scarf the bigger boy always wore. Ivan had appeared blissfully ignorant, as though he was totally unaware of the fact that it might be wrong to tease the awkward new boy about what surely must be one of his biggest insecurities.

Gilbert's gaze failed to meet Roderich's. "Yeah, I'm fine," he mumbled. He had not yet started to eat his lunch.

"Good," Roderich said. "You know, I wouldn't worry too much about Ivan. He's got something of a reputation in that he likes to push peoples' buttons. But I don't believe he means any harm by it."

Nodding a little, Gilbert looked slightly reassured by Roderich's words. The Austrian boy almost allowed himself to smile. But he caught himself before he could. He wasn't actually concerned about Gilbert, was he? It took Roderich a while to start feeling close to someone. Unconsciously, he adjusted his glassed. It was only natural, he reassured himself silently. Anyone had to feel sympathetic for a boy like Gilbert – he was clearly at least a little insecure about a part of him that was likely beyond his control, and he'd had to start attending a new school with students who could be less than accepting. It would be bad if he _didn't_ feel at least a little concerned for the German boy, especially since he seemed to be a decent person.

The silence that passed between the two, in the middle of the noisy cafeteria, did not last long. This time, it was Gilbert who spoke first. "Ah, Roderich, are – are you any good at s-statistics?" he asked hesitantly, looking up from a meal that appeared as though it had barely been picked at. He'd eaten all his potatoes, though. He did that every day, and Roderich found it mildly amusing.

"I'm decent at it, I suppose," Roderich replied with a small shrug. He typically managed at least B's in all his classes, even math, which he had always hated.

"W-well, we've, ah, we've got that t-test already next week, and I don't - I don't think I get _any_ of this." He had his textbook open in front of him, and his eyes strayed from his lunch to scan over the pages idly before pushing another forkful or two of chicken into his mouth. "Could you…help me, maybe?"

"Certainly," Roderich replied without really thinking about it very much. "Where would you like to start?"

Gilbert trailed an index finger along the opened page, brows furrowing a little to create light lines on his forehead, showing Roderich the section in question.

"Oh, that's not so difficult," Roderich said matter-of-factly. He leaned over Gilbert's shoulder a little to see the page in the book the other was talking about. "Well, the null hypothesis is when…" With ease, Roderich started explaining. It was easier than he thought, even if math had never been his strongest subject. He hadn't even noticed the way Gilbert had leaned in a little closer toward him, their chairs tugged in closer so they could both read from the same textbook at once. The German boy's brows furrowed and then relaxed again every few minutes. He seemed to be getting the general concepts, which meant he wasn't unintelligent at all. But it seemed as though Gilbert couldn't get a grasp on handling actual numbers.

The remaining twenty minutes of lunch passed quickly. On a typical day it seemed that time dragged its feet through every minute of the school day, even those Roderich spent among friends. Most of it he found terribly boring, and he was already counting down the weeks until he could graduate and immerse himself in studying nothing but music. But today he hardly even noticed time pass until he heard the bell ring. Roderich jumped a little and gathered his books into his arms, smoothing out his shirt as he stood and prepared to go to his next class. He would leave for history and Gilbert for gym before they saw each other again in English.

But today, the German boy's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Roderich?" He sounded a little more nervous than usual.

"Yes?" Roderich replied, lifting a single eyebrow in interest. He still hadn't figured Gilbert out after a week and a half. The other boy was a little bit on the awkward side, yet he seemed to prefer having company to being alone, even though Roderich had never seen himself as a particularly interesting person.

"I – I still don't think I understand. Do you – do you think we c-could maybe, ah…meet after school someday this week and - and go over it again?" Gilbert flashed Roderich an open-mouthed smile, the kind he'd never seen before. It was genuine, honest, and hopeful. It was unusual for the Austrian to accept an invitation from someone he'd met so recently, but there was something about that smile that was simply disarming to him. Gilbert certainly seemed nice enough, and Roderich knew he could use more friends. Elizaveta, Lilli, and Vash were the only three he was very close to.

After a moment of hesitation in which he bit down softly onto his lower lip in thought, Roderich nodded a little. "Sure. What about tomorrow?"

"T-tomorrow works. You could – ah, you could come to – to my house if you want. My – my mom could just t-take us both home after school," Gilbert offered.

"That sounds good to me," Roderich confirmed with a slight dip of his head. "Tomorrow it is then."

"Cool," Gilbert said, this time without stuttering. They made their way out of the cafeteria and went their separate ways. Had Roderich cast a cursory glance over his shoulder as he strode off to history, he could have caught Gilbert silently fist-pumping as he walked in the opposite direction.

* * *

"So. How's the new boy?"

Elizaveta's voice made Roderich jerk his head up from the worksheet he was bent over. A faint scowl settled over his features at the interruption, though it wasn't entirely serious. "He has a name, you know," he replied as he pressed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. It was a subconscious gesture, a motion of habit. "It's Gilbert."

"I know," Elizaveta replied with a mild shrug. "I just got so used to calling him 'the new boy.' Anyway, how is he?"

"Not nearly as arrogant as he looks. In fact, he's…" Roderich was about to use the word "nice," but stopped before he could. It was too early to make a judgment of that sort. He'd have to spend some time around Gilbert and get used to him before he could say a thing like that. Besides, he wasn't one to hand out compliments like candy on Halloween. "…not bad," he said at last. He glanced between his worksheet and Elizaveta's face, bright, curious, hanging on his every word as though he was about to say something earth-shattering. "I'm meeting him tomorrow to help him with statistics."

That single statement was enough to make Elizaveta all but drop her phone mid-text message to stare at Roderich with a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Roderich, _are_ you?" Cheerful curiosity replaced the bored drone that had tinged her voice earlier, the one that only occurred during last-period study hall, when every minute was spent praying it would be the one in which the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. The Austrian boy nodded slightly in confirmation. "Well then. I have to say, I didn't expect you to say something like that." She leaned back against her chair, crossing her legs as she did so.

"To be honest, I didn't expect it of myself," Roderich admitted.

"Well, then, why are you being so nice to the new bo – to Gilbert?"

Roderich frowned again at Elizaveta's words. He had asked himself that same question once or twice since the day he and Gilbert had met. It wasn't as though he was incapable of being nice, it just took him a bit longer than the average person to warm up to others. Brows furrowed, Roderich shrugged. "I don't know," he said at last. "I suppose I'm sick of wondering if people think I'm a little…cold. I thought I might try to change that." He paused for a moment. Elizaveta's expression didn't move an inch. "And besides, you could always use more friends…"

"Oh." Elizaveta looked unsatisfied with that answer. Green eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him in her usual fashion, boldly and without remorse or pretense. "Are you sure you don't like him just a little bit? You know – _like_ like him?" She giggled a little. Roderich could tell from the look she gave him she'd tried not to, but simply couldn't help it.

And that look was all it took for Roderich's cheeks to heat up. "Lizzy, I do _not_," he replied firmly. "It's much too early for that. I've only known him for a little over a week now. Besides…" He cleared his throat." Are you sure you want to be talking about this with me?"

This time, Elizaveta's expression finally dropped. She huffed audibly and leaned her chin on both hands, elbows propped against the desk. "Oh, Roderich. I've moved past that, you know? I – "

At that moment, the bell rang. Roderich was content to hang back with Elizaveta as the others in their study hall filed out the door and into the hallway. They ambled behind the rest of the pack as they continued to talk, their words nearly lost among a jumble of chatter as everyone was finally released from class. "Okay, so I had a crush on you freshman year," Elizaveta continued. "But that's in the past. I don't care if you only like boys." Her voice suddenly became softer and more earnest. "We're friends now. You can tell me anything. Or if you ever need advice on anything – whether it's boy-related or not – just ask me. Okay?"

Roderich allowed himself a small smile. "Okay. I will. Thank you." And with that, he gathered his textbooks and prepared to head home for the day, where he could get some time to play the piano before doing homework.

* * *

As promised, the next afternoon, Roderich followed Gilbert and Ludwig on their daily trek through the visitor parking lot as they searched for the nondescript black car belonging to the German boys' mother. It was used, but still in decent shape, the kind of car she could afford on her new American budget. Today, Ludwig climbed into the passenger seat next to her while Gilbert and Roderich sat in the back together.

"Oh, hello – it's Roderich, right?" she asked as she restarted the engine. She glanced over her shoulder at the two boys before pulling out of the parking lot and offered both a slight smile.

"That's right," Roderich affirmed with a nod. Gilbert watched that strange little kink in Roderich's hair bounce a little as he did so, unable to keep an amused smile from playing on his lips. He decided even the hair kink was attractive, in its own strange sort of way. Gilbert was half-tempted to reach out and poke it just to watch it bounce again, but fought back the desire to do so.

"Gilbert tells me you're from Austria…"

Gilbert stopped paying attention to the polite conversation Roderich shared with Gilbert's mother. Daydreams had stolen his attention away. How nice it would be to actually have a boyfriend. Back at home, before his life and the lives of his family members had started to fall apart, he'd liked to flirt – or try to. He'd never been any good at it. He could talk the talk, but had never been in a real relationship. Even though he'd only known Roderich for less than two weeks, he wanted that with the Austrian boy. Yet he'd already decided he didn't stand a chance.

At home, Ludwig had retreated to his room, leaving Roderich and Gilbert to spread their textbooks out across the dining-room table. Gilbert did his best to calm the nervous jitters that had collected in his stomach. Roderich was in his house – Roderich with the graceful walk and the eloquent manner of speaking, Roderich who seemed to have some sort of wall up around him that Gilbert couldn't help but want to break down. "W-want anything to drink?" he asked.

"Water would be nice."

Gilbert stood and made his way to the fridge, pulling out the pitcher in the door. He retrieved two glasses from the cabinet, the second for himself. Once he had both glasses poured, he reached for one as his elbow brushed the second. The glass he'd brushed started to tip over. An image flashed in his mind in the space of a second: a beer bottle left on an end table next to the couch, the light impact of Gilbert's hip against the table, the bottle clattering down onto the wood and sloshing dark liquid and pale foam everywhere. And then the screaming started. He could remember his eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted, that edgy, booming voice, and lastly, bracing -

The glass hit the counter with a little clinking noise. Water spilled everywhere. The noise shattered the illusion in Gilbert's mind, bringing him back to reality. He shot a glance over his shoulder at Roderich, whose brows were knitted in confusion.

This time, Gilbert managed a cheerful smile. "Whoops, just…ah…knocked – knocked it over," he said with a shrug. He turned back around to mop at the spilled water and pour himself a fresh glass.

He made his way back over to Roderich, a glass held firmly in each hand. For an hour and a half, the two pored over the statistics textbook together. Roderich's pencil scratched across a page of lined paper, and Gilbert's eyes followed. Even the Austrian's voice was mesmerizing to him. Most of his accent had vanished since he'd lived in America for nearly seven years, but there were still a few words he pronounced differently, especially the letter "w." Gilbert found it maddeningly adorable, the way he said, "…if so, ve vill reject the null hypothesis."

"Roderich, will your parents be expecting you for dinner?"

Gilbert's mother's voice.

The two had lost themselves so much in numbers and hypotheses and confidence intervals that Gilbert had forgotten much of his nervousness, and they had both ceased to notice how much time had passed.

"Oh, no," Roderich replied blandly as he adjusted his glasses. "They're both working late tonight. I can make my own dinner whenever I like."

"Well, why don't you stay for dinner, then?" she offered cheerily.

Gilbert's pulse jumped into his throat. He fought the urge to yell, "_Mom!_" in a flustered voice as he felt heat creep into his cheeks.

Roderich hesitated for a moment, as well. Gilbert could _feel _it. The dark-haired boy rubbed at the back of his neck. "Ah, I suppose it wouldn't hurt…"

"Come on! I'm making bratwurst tonight. And potato salad, but not the strange kind they sell in these American grocery stores, of course." Roderich opened his mouth to speak. "It'll be no trouble at all, Roderich, really." She spoke as though she knew exactly what he'd been about to say. Gilbert rolled his eyes, but mouthed a silent _thank you_ in her direction. That meant he'd get to spend more time with Roderich.

Having a mother who liked to cook traditional German food was one of the few things that helped ease the shock of a new life in America. That familiar blend of scents wafting through the air made him feel like he was at home. He liked to shut his eyes and picture his home in Berlin, familiar walls surrounding him. But sometimes, those memories suddenly turned bitter. His eyes would snap open, and he'd remember with a soft sigh why they'd moved away in the first place.

Gilbert's mother set plates and serving bowls full of food onto the table, each with its own muted _clink_. She took her seat, and Ludwig emerged as if by some magic from his room and settled down next to her, conveniently leaving the remaining two seats open so that Gilbert and Roderich would have no choice but to sit next to each other. Gilbert's mother and her younger son exchanged knowing glances as the elder's eyes shifted over to Roderich before traveling to settle on his food.

As usual, Ludwig barely talked throughout the whole dinner. "A man of few words," teachers and relatives liked to call the stern Beilschmidt boy. People often mistook him for the older brother, not only because he was taller and broader, but also because he acted far more mature than Gilbert did. Roderich, too, was silent. Even Gilbert found himself without anything to say. What could he say to the boy he'd started crushing on after only two weeks, who would probably never like him back?

Luckily, Gilbert's mother did enough talking for all of them. Gilbert always liked to say that was where he got it from. Atypical Germans, they called themselves. She kept up a constant stream of conversation throughout dinner. "So, Roderich, what do you like to do in your free time?"

"I'm a musician. I play the piano and violin."

And that was how Gilbert learned what Roderich was most passionate about in life.

"Do your parents always work this late, Roderich?"

"Well, my mother works on Wall Street. And my father is a violin professor at NYU, so they both keep fairly busy."

And that was how Gilbert learned what Roderich's parents did for a living. He reminded himself to thank his mother later.

After dinner, Roderich and Gilbert wandered into the den while Ludwig helped clear the table. "So, ah, Roderich…do-do you want to – to stay f-for a little while longer? Or – or am I k-keeping you from…something?" Gilbert said hesitantly. For whatever reason, even though Roderich wasn't nearly as outgoing as those he'd hung out with back in Berlin, he caught himself craving even more time with the Austrian boy. Maybe it was because Roderich was the only one who'd been nice to Gilbert so far.

"I was planning on practicing the piano," Roderich admitted. "But…" His brows knitted slightly. He glanced at Gilbert, then briefly at the floor, then back at Gilbert. "I suppose staying for a _little_ while longer couldn't hurt."

"Do you just want to watch television or something?" Gilbert offered.

Roderich dipped his head slightly in agreement. "That would be just fi – oh! I just remembered! Glee is on tonight. Can we watch that?" A rare note of excitement stirred in Roderich's voice. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly upwards.

Gilbert giggled. He just couldn't help it. Glee – he'd heard two girls talking about that show in one of his classes. He hadn't pegged Roderich as the type to watch a show like that. "You - you mean the show with th-the singing and dancing?" His voice took on that amused tone it had when he teased his brother Ludwig.

"Yes, Gilbert," Roderich deadpanned.

"Really, Roderich? Really?" He chuckled again, having not even realized he'd spoken that short phrase without stuttering once. The stutter tended to ease up when he was feeling especially comfortable or at ease, which was almost always the case when he was cracking some kind of joke. Laughter made him feel as though everything was okay again. When he was laughing, he could pretend there was some sort of pretense or façade of normality about his life.

"Yes, really." There was still no discernible emotion in the Austrian boy's voice, but he raised a single eyebrow at Gilbert in faint amusement.

These barely-recognizable breaks in Roderich's poker face delighted Gilbert to no end, and he wanted to see more of them. "I've n-never seen this show, but it - it doesn't sound like something a p-priss like you would watch!" Priss? He had no idea how that little nickname had slipped out; it simply had.

"_Priss?_" Roderich's voice echoed the thought in Gilbert's mind. "Gilbert!" Oh, God, did Roderich sound a little flustered? This was much too fun.

"Y-yes?" Deliberately, Gilbert attempted to sound as innocent as possible. He shot Roderich a sweet smile.

"Just…put on the show. Channel 13." The Austrian boy's entrancing purple eyes were narrowed slightly as he aimed a glare at Gilbert. Though he doubted that glare was entirely serious.

Gilbert fetched the remote from its place atop the end table. "Fine, Roderich." There was a soft crackling sound as the television flickered to life. The two sat on the couch together and watched the song-and-dance numbers sandwiched in between the sorts of teenage problems nearly every high school student could relate to. At first, Gilbert had crossed his arms across his chest and fought to keep from scowling. Surely none of these characters were experiencing the sort of problems he was. But then he saw the little smile on Roderich's face when a character called Rachel Berry sang, and suddenly he forgot about all his problems.

"_Can't read my, can't read my, no he can't read my poker face…" _

Admittedly, the tune was kind of catchy, and Gilbert liked her voice.

But the song wasn't the most important thing.

What was important was the way Roderich had, at least for a little while, abandoned _his_ poker face, when he thought Gilbert was watching the television rather than his face. And, to Gilbert, there was nothing sweeter than that.

* * *

**As always, thanks for reading, and reviews are love :)**


	4. ANNOUNCEMENT

**It has come to my attention through a Tumblr follower that I should let you know what's going on with this fanfic.**

**I've been kind of in a perpetual bad mood for much of the spring semester and into the summer. My motivation to write or update this fic kept slipping until it was gone. I don't know when or if I'll get it back, so until further notice, this fic is on indefinite hiatus. I'm sorry if this disappoints anyone, but I won't be forced to write anything. My fics are supposed to be as fun for me to write as they are for you to read. If I gain inspiration back, I will certainly update, but I'm not sure if that will happen.**

**However, I am planning to start a new PruAus human AU shortly, so don't fear too much! I do have inspiration for this one. It will be called "Up in the Air" and is based off a drabble I wrote and posted on my personal blog (prussiansausage - look under the 'Shannon writes stuff' tag if you care to read it). **

**Thank you so much for your patience and I hope you'll be happy with the new fic once I start posting it!**


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